Title: "A New Chapter"
Hearing that the old man no longer wanted to discuss his earnings from Southport, Fa Yinge couldn't be happier. He eagerly recounted all that had happened in Southport, from beginning to end, carefully omitting any mention of the stolen moneybags or his time in the casinos.
"I'm pleased to hear this. It seems you're learning how to use strategy now. That's a good sign, it puts my mind at ease," the old man said.
"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Fa Yinge asked, puzzled.
"I'm getting old, and it's about time I retired. I'm thinking of having you take over for me. Tomorrow, you'll come with me to see the boss. Get some rest now," the old man said as he left Fa Yinge's room.
Fa Yinge stood there, stunned. He had never imagined he might one day take the old man's place. This was incredible news, and he felt a surge of excitement.
As the old man left Fa Yinge's dim and cramped room, he returned to his own quarters. To his surprise, he found the boy sitting by the lamp, engrossed in one of the books that lined the shelves—books that were mostly there for show.
"You enjoy reading, do you?" the old man asked.
The boy, who hadn't noticed anyone entering the room, jumped at the sudden sound. His nerves had been frayed all day, and this small scare was anything but trivial to him.
Noticing the boy's pale face and frightened eyes, the old man decided to ease his fears. He smiled warmly and said, "Don't worry. If you like, you can read as much as you want. I'm pleased to see someone who appreciates books—it's quite rare."
"Thank you. You have so many books here," the boy said, clearly impressed.
"Not too bad, right? Do you really enjoy reading that much?" the old man asked, feigning curiosity to learn more about the boy.
The boy, unsuspecting, replied, "Yes, Mr. Matild had a lot of books too. Oh, right—Mr. Matild was my former employer. He was a very learned man. He used to say that knowledge is the only wealth that can't be lost or devalued, and books are the treasure troves of knowledge. Mr. Matild had a vast collection of books, most of which I couldn't understand, but the ones I could read were fascinating."
"What kinds of books did you find interesting?" the old man asked, keeping his tone casual.
"There were many—books about plants, animals, places around the world, and especially about sailing. Oh, I loved reading about sailing!" the boy said enthusiastically.
"And what about novels? Do you enjoy any particular kind of story?" the old man inquired.
"Novels? No, Mr. Matild didn't have novels. He had a lot of poetry collections, though, and books about mythology, legends, and religion. I couldn't really understand those, but I don't remember there being any novels."
"Have you ever owned any books yourself?" the old man asked.
The boy looked embarrassed. "Books are just too expensive. I never had the money. Aunt Betty once offered to lend me the money to buy a book, but I couldn't let her spend so much on me. She's already done so much."
"Aunt Betty? She takes good care of you, does she?"
"Yes, she's like a mother to me. Since I was little, Aunt Betty has been the one taking care of me. My father and Uncle Cole were both sailors, but my father died from a terrible illness, something contagious. I never got to see him before he passed away, and we didn't even have his ashes," the boy said, his voice tinged with sadness.
"Was it the plague, seven years ago?" the old man asked.
Indeed, in Laier, the plague that had ravaged Southport was a vivid memory. It had been a time of horror, with people dying in droves, the cremation fires outside the city burning day and night, filling the air with the stench of burning bodies. Even the clothes and bedding of the deceased were thrown into the streets and burned, and in the worst-hit areas, entire streets were set ablaze to stop the disease from spreading.
"Yes. Aunt Betty and Uncle Cole lost their families too. They only got together afterward," the boy replied, his voice heavy with the kind of sorrow that only those who had lived through such a disaster could truly understand.
From the boy's words, the old man realized that he had come from a family pieced together in the aftermath of that tragic epidemic. This insight was valuable to the old man, who knew that different experiences shaped people in ways that required different methods of control.
Satisfied with what he had learned, the old man patted the boy on the head and said, "I'm sorry for bringing up such painful memories. You must be very tired today. Get some rest—you can sleep on the sofa in the outer room. There are blankets and pillows in the wardrobe."
"I'd like to read a bit longer," the boy said.
"You can take a few books with you. Consider them a gift from me. But remember to get to bed soon. Tomorrow morning, I'll take you to meet the boss."
"Just a little longer. The oil in the lamp is almost out—let me read until it burns out," the boy pleaded.
"Alright, but don't stay up too late," the old man instructed before heading to his bedroom. He left the door to the study ajar, allowing him to hear any unusual noises.
Through the crack in the door, the old man could see that the boy had turned the lamp down low, making the oil last longer. The old man shook his head with a wry smile, thinking that Eckert might be quite interested in this boy. A studious apprentice like this was a rarity. The hideout was quiet, but no one was truly asleep. The golden fingers had been ordered to bed early, and they didn't dare disobey the old man, though they were far from tired after their usual late nights. As for Fa Yinge, he was exhausted, but the news from the old man had him too excited to sleep.
"The old man's retiring?" Fa Yinge kept turning the thought over in his mind.
For Fa Yinge, the old man's retirement was a golden opportunity—his chance to rise to a level he'd never dreamed of. For someone who had grown up in the slums and later became a streetwise golden finger, taking the old man's place was like reaching the pinnacle of success. Beyond that, only the boss himself was higher.
Maybe one day Eckert would replace the boss. After all, the boss was getting old too. Eckert and Fa Yinge had a good relationship, and with Eckert's backing, Fa Yinge's future seemed promising. With the old man's position, money wouldn't be a problem anymore. Though Fa Yinge didn't know exactly how wealthy the old man was, he was aware that the old man owned an estate in the kingdom of France—a sign of considerable wealth. Fa Yinge began to daydream about what he would do if he had that kind of money.
He wouldn't live quietly as a landowner, like the old man. Instead, he'd invest like the merchants in Southport. Perhaps he could make more money by going into business, then reinvest the profits, making his wealth grow like a snowball rolling down a hill. Fa Yinge immersed himself in visions of a prosperous future, filled with excitement and ambition.